


First Transformation

by Stariceling



Category: Chrono Trigger
Genre: Gen, Trans Character, Transformation, character backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-10
Updated: 2009-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stariceling/pseuds/Stariceling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flea and Magus compete as they undergo magical training together, until the first time Flea tries to transform himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Transformation

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly I really liked the idea of Magus and Flea training together, and I wanted to write something about how Flea comes to be so devoted to Magus.
> 
> Events after this fic: my headcanon is that Flea later becomes powerful enough to take on any form he wants, but likes himself the way he is.

Magus hadn't realized there were mystics that could almost pass for human until he met Flea. Of course, at that time he was still studying under Ozzie, fervently trying to make up for coming into his own powers so late, and he hadn't had the time or inclination to travel around and meet any other tribes of mystics.

His first impression was that Flea was a dangerous little wisp of a creature, shorter and slighter than him, but at the same time crackling with magical energy and not at all hesitant to use it. Like Magus, Flea had been surrounded by magic since birth, and like Magus, he had been taken in by Ozzie as both a student and a tool after losing his home and family. There the similarity ended. Flea had obviously been well trained even before coming under Ozzie's tutelage, while Magus still struggled to keep the simplest of spells from raging wildly out of control.

Ozzie trained both of them with a heavy hand, showing no more favoritism between his two students than he might have between his undead constructs. Not that praise would have helped either of their temperaments. Flea remained aloof to even the most biting criticism his teacher meted out, and Magus was far more harsh on himself than any teacher could ever be. They were both driven, in their own ways, and should have been well suited to study magic together.

They hated each other almost instantly. Magus wasn't exactly sure why Flea hated him, but he knew he could never stand for being second best to the mystic boy. Even knowing Flea was older, he hated the fact that Flea had a head start on him. Magus despised the idea that even now that he had come into his powers at last, someone could still be more powerful than him. A frustrating rivalry formed between them as Magus struggled with his own magic, forced to fling mere insults in retaliation when Flea blew rings of mage-fire at him.

Overuse of dark magic had a gradual influence on Magus's body as he grew, but Magus hardly noticed. He didn't care when his skin took on a deathly, bluish tinge. He only cared that his power increased and finally conformed to his control. He did notice that he grew taller and physically stronger, but only because he was pleased to note that his body matured faster than Flea's. Flea had tried to treat him as a child at first, but after a few years Flea was the one who looked like a child when compared with him.

Once Magus reached adolescence, his body underwent a rapid growth spurt both physically and magically, which seemed to anger Flea to no end. Magus suddenly found himself seeing next to nothing of his rival, as Flea threw himself into some mysterious new project. Magus took no break from his own studies to celebrate, thinking Flea was planning some new attack and determined to be ready to meet it.

The attack Magus had waited for never came, though almost overnight Flea shot up like a weed, nearly matching him in height. At the same time, he became like a silent shadow. Not speaking, hardly eating, spending all of his time locked in dungeon workshop they often used for practicing dangerous new spells.

Magus would have left his rival up to his own devices, and even been glad for the silence, but for the fact that the dungeon room was also his to work in, and he wouldn't stand for being kicked out so easily. One day he got himself into a temper and simply burst into the underground room, ready to counter whatever attack Flea might be preparing for him.

Instead of finding Flea poring over some complex new spell, or ready to blast him back the way he had come, Magus was surprised to find the room empty. He instantly stretched out with his senses for some sign of life, expecting Flea to appear out of nowhere, but the only living creature in the room was a small bat fluttering around near the ceiling.

Magus had hardly noticed the bat until it dived at him, beating him about the face with its leathery wings and trying to bite him when he swatted it away. It flew a lap around the room, out of Magus's reach, then swooped at his face again.

With a word, Magus froze the angry creature in midair and caught it with his bare hands. The bat lay limp in his palm. His spell left the bat just enough leeway to breathe, which it did in little panting fits, letting out faint hissing noises and glaring at him with glittering, fierce eyes.

Magus thought the creature must be either rabid, or otherwise mad, to attack him in that way. He was about to destroy it with a spell and put it out of its misery, but he hesitated. There was something faintly familiar about the feeling around the creature, something that reminded him of Flea. The bat positively exuded the same feeling as Flea's magic, a prickling in the air that Magus found he could recognize after putting up with Flea for so long.

As soon as Magus recognized the feeling, he knew. He _knew_ the bat lying in his hand had to be Flea. He hadn't thought that Flea was even interested in transformation, which they both knew was a formidable field of magic to meddle in. It occurred to Magus to wonder if the transformation had made Flea go mad or if Flea was merely irritated at being interrupted while practicing a new spell.

For half a second, Magus considered the idea of killing his rival anyway, then dismissed the idea. Physical transformations were an incredibly difficult and dangerous branch of magic, especially when they included such a drastic change in size. Magus would never risk such a spell on himself, there wasn't enough to gain from it, but if he could get Flea to use this power for him. . . Magus realized he was thinking like his tutor, and knew that Flea would most likely still hate him, but he also knew he had nothing to lose and plenty to gain from sparing Flea now.

Magus lifted his spell but Flea simply lay immobile in his hand, stunned and panting.

"Flea," Magus called, trying to alert Flea to the fact that he knew what was happening, and that he had decided not to harm his rival. Flea twitched in his hand as he said the name, but made no sign that he was trying to return to his natural form.

The most dangerous thing about transformations was a loss of the sense of self. If Flea couldn't remember who and what he was, he could never become himself again. Magus bent over the small bat that should have been Flea, feeling concern for the first time. It unnerved him to think of someone he knew, even someone he didn't particularly like, going mad from their own magic.

"Flea!" Magus put all of his concern and anger into that one word, turning it into a command. "Come back right now!"

Flea twitched again, staring up at him with shining, vacant eyes. Then Magus felt a surge of magic, and the tiny body in his hands began to glow. Magus had to shut his eyes against the powerful white light, but he could still feel the magic in his hands melting away. The soft fur resting in his palm was replaced by bare skin. Flea toppled forward, suddenly far too big to be held in Magus's hands. He landed squarely on Magus, falling limp against his chest.

When Magus was able to see again, Flea was back to himself. He was leaning against Magus, chest-to-chest, breathing laboriously. His face was turned away, his eyes tightly closed, so that Magus couldn't be entirely sure he hadn't gone mad after all.

One thing Magus could be sure about was that Flea hadn't been able to transform his clothes along with himself. The mystic boy's obvious nakedness was making Magus want to shove him away. He could feel something soft pressing against his chest as Flea leaned against him. It almost felt as if Flea's chest was. . . .

Magus pushed Flea back far enough that he could look at him, sure that he was mistaken. The shift brought Flea back to himself, making his eyes snap open, but Magus was so distracted staring at Flea's chest that he hardly noticed. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the fact that Flea had breasts, when he had been so sure that Flea was a boy. Especially when he tore his eyes away from Flea's chest long enough to look lower, and realized that Flea _was_ male. At least, assuming that was judged the same way as it was with human anatomy.

He was so distracted, he didn't even see the blow coming before Flea punched him in the face. Anger and shock froze Magus long enough for Flea to scramble back away from him, shaking his hand as if he had hurt himself punching Magus. They had never traded physical blows before, and it seemed proof that Flea had completely drained his magical reserves that he resorted to physical violence now.

Magus cared more about Flea's unprovoked attack than the fact that Flea was naked in front of him. For that matter, what should he care what Flea looked like? Magus knew by now that most mystics didn't look at all human, so why should he be surprised that he couldn't tell Flea's sex just by looking?

At the same time, Magus was sure that if they were a natural part of his growth, Flea would have been flaunting the breasts, not hiding them. He had been so eager to grow up, wanting so badly to surpass Magus.

There had been a strange magical tingle about them when they touched him, Magus realized. They were an accident, grown of a magical spillover. Flea had wanted so badly to age . . .

"You've been casting aging spells on yourself." Magus didn't know how he could be so sure. He hadn't even thought such a thing existed. Maybe there weren't any properly tried and tested spells for aging, and that was why what had happened to Flea's chest had happened.

"Shut up."

Flea's voice came out as a breathless snarl, and Magus recognized the hate glinting in Flea's eyes. Flea was too exhausted to pose a real threat at the moment, but he was quite capable of holding a deep grudge. Even knowing that, Magus couldn't help enjoying having something so very embarrassing to hold over Flea's head at last. The brat had it coming.

"That's why you've been hiding them."

"Shut up!" Flea clasped his arms over his breasts, and Magus was sure that if Flea had any power left at all he would be trying to incinerate his tormenter. "I know what you're thinking!"

"What?"

Magus wasn't interested in Flea's body, other than knowing at last how Flea had caught up to him so quickly, and having something to hold over him at last. He glared, practically daring Flea to say otherwise.

Flea gave him an equally poisonous look in return. "That they make me look like a human," he spat out. His eyes promised pain the minute Magus agreed with him.

Magus laughed–a cold, harsh sound that his throat had never quite gotten used to. How stupid was Flea? Was he so completely blinded by mystic prejudice that he didn't even know what he hated?

"Human men do not grow breasts." Especially not ones that reeked of pent-up magic.

Flea took this the wrong way. He launched himself at Magus, depleted power gathering for at least one small spell. Magus ducked out of the way.

"You idiot!" Magus managed not to shout, determined not to lose what little ground he had gained over the other boy. He was in control here, and getting one of them fried was not productive. "They make you look less human."

Flea paused, and Magus seized his chance and seized Flea. He twisted Flea's arms down and away from him to prevent the mystic boy from casting any complex spell on him. They might still be rivals as far as magic went, but he still had Flea beat when it came to physical strength.

"Why do you even care?" Magus demanded. He didn't care so much for the answer as for the fact that the conversation was keeping Flea off balance.

"Easy for you to say. No one would mistake you for a human."

The pure bitterness in Flea's voice didn't surprise Magus as much as the comment itself. He was human. Enlightened, and far above the common people who had spread over the Earth, but still human. He was no monster like Flea.

And yet . . . he had taken a cue from Ozzie and made a habit of floating, moving just the tiniest bit above the ground so that no one would mistake him for a magicless human to be preyed upon. It was a careless show of power, and the most effective way that he had found to keep respect.

"And who would mistake you for a human?"

Flea took advantage of Magus's surprise to wrench himself free and stepped away. He wouldn't answer. Still, some fraction of the hate Flea reserved for him had left his expression. Magus pressed on.

"What makes you think you look more human then me?"

Flea glared. He still looked weary from his transformation, but the proud posture and the superior tilt to his chin that Magus knew so well were both back. It didn't seem that he would deign to play any longer, or to answer.

Magus didn't care if he never got an answer. He should have written Flea off as an enemy long ago. Maybe he should have just destroyed him when he'd had the chance.

Only, Flea did answer, and the unexpected words stunned Magus momentarily. "You're beautiful," was all he said. There was a longing in his voice that Flea couldn't quite hide, and Magus couldn't quite understand.

"It's not beauty," Magus suppressed the urge to call Flea an idiot again, "It's only power."

Power was all either of them wanted, after all.

Flea turned his face away proudly, obviously angered by this answer. He guessed that Magus was trying to flaunt his superiority even more.

It had always been obvious that Flea wanted to master his own magic just as badly as Magus did, and Magus had never known or cared why. But, Magus saw something there that he hadn't before. It wasn't that Flea hated Magus to his very core. The source of Flea's proud animosity was that he wanted to be recognized as a Mystic. It seemed that no one had done this for him, especially not Magus, since it had never occurred to him that Flea might need to be recognized for his heritage. Flea, after all, already had his magic at his command.

"You have power too," Magus reminded him.

When Flea turned his head back, all but one last dim spark of that fervent anger had gone out of his eyes. Magus took this as a good sign.

He reached out to grab Flea's arm and dragged the exhausted mystic up into the air with him. Flea stumbled, having barely enough energy left to float along with Magus. Yet after a few seconds he managed to steady himself against Magus's arm, his feet a few centimeters shy of brushing the ground.

"You aren't human," Magus reminded him. "Walking is for humans, and you are above them."

This wasn't strictly true, but Magus was sure that Flea rated above an Earthbound. He would always rank above Flea, but he was Enlightened, and so no ordinary human. More importantly Magus was sure that his magical power outclassed Flea's, but this wasn't the time to bring that up.

Flea clutched Magus's hand, and even though Magus didn't enjoy the contact, he allowed it. He had meant to remind Flea that he had helped him survive the transformation, to hold the fact that Flea could have gone mad without him over his head, but now didn't seem like the most effective time. Flea was already staring at him as if he had never truly seen Magus before.

Magus didn't know it at the time, but those words had gained him his first true follower. Flea practically forgot that Ozzie had been his teacher, and looked to Magus alone after that. And as Magus made it plain that he was not to be mistaken for a human, Flea did become overly proud of his body, to the point of flaunting both it and his powers. Magus didn't care, so long as Flea remained loyal and useful to him.

His instinct had been right. Flea was a powerful ally, and an invaluable tool.


End file.
